Character's Full Name: Elion
Character's Nickname(s): Elio, El
Birth date: 21 Bloomingtide, 9:13
Birthplace: Free Marches
Marital status: Single
Occupation(s): Fugitive slave/ former apprentice
Hair: Brown, shaved close at back and sides and slightly longer on top.
Other: Elion is neither particularly intimating or remarkable; ostensibly just another skinny, pale elf. Elion has cultivated this appearance from years of slavery in Tevinter, where being noticed was almost never good. As a result his gaze tends to drift downward, something he actively has to remind himself to correct. His magic is frequently channelled through anger, where his spellcraft could be described as more forceful or commanding than might be expected of an elf. He lacks any vallaslin, having been taken from his clan as a child.
Weapons: A staff of deep-brown oak, ending in multiple twisted branches. Adorned with black leather hand-grips and barely-visible arcane symbols which emit a warm golden aura when Elion uses magic.
Usual Garments/Armor: As an apostate, Elion prefers to remain inconspicuous in attire. Simple tunics and trousers, often in 'natural tones' (with light greens, deep blues and dark greys featured prominently) are preferred. These clothes lack any finery or distinguishable ornamentation, which Elion has shunned in order to more easily blend in with the common people. His boots, of simple leather, are worn. His hair is short and well-groomed.
Inventory: The bare essentials for surviving in the wilds (e.g. flint and whetstone, waterskin, rations, torch, pouches for herbs, etc.) contained within a leather backpack.
Basic Skill(s): Elion is literate and schooled in mathematics and Tevinter history. He is able to survive in the forest, with knowledge of hunting, foraging and a basic understanding of herbalism.
Trade Skill(s): Elion was tutored in the art of magic by a moderately-powerful Tevinter mage, who focused on developing an enforcer/bodyguard in his elf apprentice. From this, Elion has experience working in both personal security and as a magical research assistant (assisting in spell-work, scribing, purchasing reagents and so on).
Languages: Common (written and spoken), Tevene (written only), Elvhen (low-level, spoken only).
In-Game Skill(s): Survival, Improved Survival, Herbalism, Combat Training, Improved Combat Training, Coercion, Poison-making, Improved Poison-Making
Sustained Abilities:Arcane Shield, Death Syphon, Spell Wisp, Rock Armour, Flaming Weapons
Passive Abilities: Staff Focus
Activated Abilities: Flame Blast, Fireball, Walking Bomb, Virulent Walking Bomb, Arcane Bolt
Pragmatic, cunning and always on the lookout for danger, Elion’s life on the lowest rungs of Tevinter society have taught him a considerable amount, for better or worse. Instructed to never show hesitation or self-doubt, this learned behaviour can come across as superior or overly-confident, where Elion refuses to show what could be construed as weakness. As part of his upbringing, trusting others is not something that comes easily, nor is forgiveness.
Observing from the outside, Elion has never felt at peace with his position in the world – torn between his life as an enslaved mage of Tevinter and his upbringing amongst the Dalish – his philosophy is often harsh and unforgiving – the weak must defend themselves, nothing is given in life, anything worth having must be fought for. Despite this, themes from his childhood are still present in his psyche. A great respect for nature, for religion and for the struggles of his people colour his thoughts and actions.
Elion has an inherent dislike for non-elves, inborn to most Dalish but bolstered through his experience in Tevinter society. The humans he encountered were cruel and would not hesitate to step on anyone to achieve their goals, while dwarves were dour and greedy, motivated purely by profits. His approach to slavers is understandably hostile. Elion actively works against his temper, an emotion which allows him to access powerful magic, though often creates a struggle to retain control.
Born into the Suranel Dalish of the Free Marches, Elion regards his early childhood fondly, remembering how the evergreens pierced the sky, the fantastic tales of the hearthmaster, the beauty of the halla with their coats of marble and gentle swaying of the aravels in motion. The Suranel were few in number even by Dalish standard; according the hearthmaster this was the intention of the Creators, who wished for the small clan to cherish kinship above all else. Elion recalls the unlikely number of brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts and uncles he had, exemplifying the Suranel closeness as just about everyone was regarded as family in the small community. Life was good and peaceful, as the Suranel lived a sufficient, yet unremarkable life. That was was until one fateful evening in Elion's tenth year.
Roused from sleep by strange noises, Elion ventured blearily ventured out of his sleeping quarters to investigate. His sleep-daze turned to horror as he surveyed their convoy. Aravels were ablaze and people were screaming. Humans – Elion could tell from their height - were everywhere. The sound of clashing metal rang through the camp. Bodies – elf and human alike - were scattered. The halla had fled and everywhere Elion turned the armed Dalish were outnumbered by attackers. Women and children were being corralled, surrounded by men who waved their swords threateningly. Seeing the carnage wrought and his brothers and sisters threatened was too much for Elion.
Elion felt true rage for the first time in his life. He lifted his arms, subconsciously trying to project his hatred. Perhaps it was the trauma of what had happened earlier, or the righteous anger of youth, or some combination of factors which triggered the emergence of his magic. His anger coalesced and was transformed into a cone of white-hot fire. Before the bandit had even noticed the small Dalish boy, he was engulfed from head to toe in a skin-blistering inferno. Screaming in pain, he fell forward onto the grass, rolling as the flames seared his exposed flesh. The events following are hazy for Elion, who was overcome with exhaustion after such an intense manifestation of magic. Drained of energy, he fell firstly to his knees, then onto the soft earth of the forest, not even rage able to keep him upright. The exhaustion began to close in, his eyes refusing to stay open. He was vaguely aware of a several approaching bandits as he faded into unconsciousness.
Elion awoke alone in a dark room, shackled at the ankle and neck. His captors, whoever they were, made no attempt to inform him of their destination, or communicate with him at all. His pleas, questions and demands went unheeded as he was transported in a bandit convoy. Contact was minimal - until they arrived. Emerging from his mobile prison, Elion found familiar trees of the forest had been replaced with odd square structures of stone and glass. There was no soft earth to be seen - the ground was lined with stones, carefully placed in unnatural patterns. The area was thronged with people. More people than Elion had ever seen. Mainly humans, Elion noticed with disgust, though the occasional dwarf and even elf were noticeable in the crowd. The people moved quickly, shouting at each other, pushing past and generally rushing around. Animals, from caged chickens to oxen, were being led purposefully down the street. Children – some of them larger than Elion – played games he did not recognise. It was chaos, it smelled awful and Elion missed the sprawling trees and quiet of the Free Marches immensely. The grand city of Minrathous was alien to the young Dalish boy.
Taken to an auction-house, he stood at the front of a group who eyed him judgmentally. At the time, Elion was had no idea of their status – lower- and middle-class citizens looking to acquire slaves. Elion returned their appraising gazes with as much spite as he could muster, though it did little to stifle interest. Elion was sold to a laetan man named Orion. As with most Tevinter mages, Orion was obsessed with upward mobility, himself deeply envious of the respect and power commanded by the altus. It was for this reason he would come to acquire the young elf. A magical enforcer, particularly one he could mould and shape to his will, would be a valuable tool in his social advancement. If not, he would prove useful for some blood magic ritual. The elf would serve his purposes either way.
Escorted to Orion’s estate, Elion’s new life began. While not precisely cruel, Orion enforced the rules immediately and without pretence. Any question or mention of his family were met with a swift beating from the house guards. The earliest days and weeks were a cycle of violence as Elion slowly learned there would be no defiance, no impudence and no questioning. With the spells and enchantments placed on Orion’s estate, escape was impossible, though this didn’t prevent multiple ill-fated attempts. Through savagery Orion made sure to establish the nature of their relationship; Elion’s life was no longer his own, Orion was master and his word law. The elf was property, and Orion had no place for useless property – Elion would be trained to serve or die. Fortunately (or not) for Elion, the constant threat of violence accelerated the emergence of his magic. It became easier to summon anger and hate, to reach into the Fade for more significant displays of magic. Orion’s tutelage was ruthless but effective as every mistake punished, every success derided. Elion hated his master, who constantly reminded him of his own inferiority and worthlessness as an elf. As part of his practical training, Elion was taught the skills of writing and mathematics, inherent to civilised magecraft.
For sixteen years, this life continued. A mixture of lessons, learning and derision. In spite of his hatred, Elion fell into the routine of his new life. He learned to recognise his master’s apoplexy, how to conduct himself and perform to the standard expected of him. Physical violence became less and less frequent as the elf became defter at navigating the treacherous moods of his master. His magic was growing stronger, and with it an interest in the craft. Inspired perhaps by his master’s insatiable appetite for knowledge, Elion found the more he learned, the more he wanted to learn. Moreover, the tales in Orion's books reminded him of his hearthmaster's stories: epic battles and empires rising and falling, of great heroes, the siege of darkspawn and more. Inded, reading in his master's library was a reprieve from his new life - where Elion was free to imagine a life beyond Orion's estate. Free-time aside, Elion appeared with Orion in his public duties, serving as part of a security retinue. Through this, Elion observed first-hand how Tevinter society functioned - as an outsider, elf, and slave, his social standing was less-than-zero. He learned to exist in the background, seen yet not heard and speak only when spoken to. In addition, he began to assist his master in spellwork and experimentation, though Orion was vehemently opposed to passing on the secrets of blood magic, threatening to sacrifice Elion in such a ritual if it the elf ever mentioned it again.
It was a slow process, but Elion gained his master’s trust. In spite of his hatred, Elion couldn't think of a viable alternative. What would he do? He had no knowledge of his family or their location, or indeed if they were still alive. He had been separated from the Dalish now longer than he had been with them, nor did he have any vallaslin to prove his heritage. In addition, with Tevinter’s employment of bounty hunters and slave-catchers, runaway property never got far. Leaving would be certain suicide. As such, life on Orion’s estate became bearable. It was never his home – Orion reminded him often enough – but it was familiar. His quarters, the other slaves, the library and laboratory were all well known to him and comforting. It was not until his 26th year life changed again.
Orion’s scheming was incessant and often confusingly circuitous; Tevinter society prized cunning and deceit, after all. Friends, political allies, came and went quicker than the seasons in Minrathous. Forever coveting a higher position, Orion’s attempts consistently fell just shy of true advancement. It would ultimately prove his downfall. Returning from the city market at night, Elion was the first to discover his master slumped at his desk, a dagger buried deep in his back. The middle-aged mage had been the victim of an unseen assassin, likely sent by a jealous rival or spurned noble. Orion had made many enemies along his quest for advancement, most of whom wouldn't shy away from murdering an opponent as per dictate of Tevinter society. Elion felt no grief or sense of loss at the death of his master. This was not his home. He was a possession, Orion had reminded him frequently.
Elion knew he could not stay. His association to Orion was well known; his own safety was likely at risk from whomever had orchestrated his master's demise. Aside, once the death became public knowledge the guards would descend and, best case, Elion would be bartered onto the next Tevinter citizen. Worst case, he would be accused of murder and executed. Gathering his meagre possessions, he left the estate for the last time. His future was uncertain, though uncertainty in the wilds seemed far less bleak than continuing his life in Minrathous. Perhaps he would try and track down his clan, or failing that exact revenge upon the people who attacked his family all those years ago.